Hold Me Close
by LoLGoau
Summary: Not all stories are meant to be happy, and some are darker on the inside than they are on the surface. I do not own, work for, or know anyone in Riot, and League of Legends and its characters are their property. I am only a fan.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note:_**

_Not sure how long this series will go for, but I wanted to make a darker series than what I normally write. I hope every enjoys this first chapter, and know that a second one is on the way.  
_

_I do not know how many characters will be involved in this, but, for now, this one is about Cassiopeia and Nidalee._

_Background story: Nidalee has lost everything; Rengar left her, her family was hunted down and she could find no trace of them, there was a massive fire that burned down nearly half of the Kumungu Jungle, and she has been unable to make the League listen. Cassiopeia then offered her a place in her manor, but with one, dark condition. Nidalee accepted the condition, and became an object of Cassiopeia's relief, if only to be..._

_In Her Embrace..._

* * *

How long has it been since it all happened?

The break up? The fight? The tears? The separation? …the comfort?

It all seemed to have happened so quickly that it seemed like a dream. Maybe it was all a dream; a very long dream, but there was no way for her to be sure.

She felt smooth, textured hands on her arms, slightly scaly arms wrap around her own, constricting her and preventing her from fleeing should she choose to… but she had no desire to flee from the embrace she found herself in.

It was a cool embrace, yet inviting, calming even. She felt safe in the embrace, but knew it would not last forever. For now… she was here for her, and her alone.

She let out a moan as she felt small canines nip at her neck, the arms rising up to entrap her biceps and cradle her twin mounds. She leaned her head back and turned it to the side, yearning to lock her lips with the one who was embracing her.

She did receive the kiss she wanted, and then felt the large, soft mounds of her partner pressing into her strong back. She moaned into that kiss, a plea for it to not break and a request for more. She wanted to be touched more, held closer, and to feel the warmth from her partner… and then she felt that familiar feeling of hot, noxious breath filling her mouth, throat, lungs, and stomach.

She slowly blinked her eyes as her partner's hands slithered down her arms to lock fingers as she breathed those fumes into her.

Breathe in through the nose. Breathe out through the mouth. Breathe in through the nose. Breathe out through the mouth. Breathe in through the mouth, and then her partner would separate her lips from her before letting the breath out down her front.

For days, weeks really, this had been the pattern that she repeated, filling her with the noxious breath twice, and then taking it out to breathe that warm, used breath on her breasts and chest. Every time, it had felt like her insides were melting, she felt light-headed, and… her partner had told her what would happen if and when she succumbed to the fumes.

She didn't care about that though. All she wanted was to be in her partner's embrace for the time, even if it meant death. Anything was better than living with the agonizing past. She let her head droop backward and exhausted the last of the fumes in her body before slowly taking in a breath or clean, healthy air.

As she did this, her partner locked her lips around the nub of her right nipple, earning a moan before beginning to suckle and tease it with her tongue. When her partner lightly bit down with her teeth, she let out a breath through clenched teeth.

Happy with the reaction, her partner slithered around, rugged scales sliding past smooth skin to create a feeling like being on dry grass, and pushed her down to continue playing with her body, as well as gain more access and control over it.

Another thing that made her partner the dominating one was that she didn't want to be abandoned by this one. This partner was all she had left, even if she was not the only thing her partner had left.

She moaned as she felt those smooth lips against her nethers, moved her arms above her head to allow her partner's arms to roam her sides and waist, and arched her back as she felt that serpentine tongue lick over her sensitive area. She began to spread her legs, intending to give her partner less resistance, but stopped and clenched her teeth when she felt sharp talons piercing into the tender flesh of her under arms. She returned her legs to their previous position slowly, and then stopped clenching her teeth when she felt the talons retract and began to massage the area they just were.

Her partner then began to move her mouth up again, delivering small kisses as she ascended, and then she stopped with her mouth above her throat and began to kiss her neck.

She had been informed, in great detail, what would happen if she died. She didn't mind, though it was nerve wracking at times to hear of just how little she would be missed, but, as it was, there was no one else to remember her.

Finally, her partner continued and they locked lips again. There was no noxious breath, but she felt poison dripping from her partner's teeth.

She closed her eyes and drank in the kiss, the saliva, and the poison.

She had built up a resistance to both the poison and the noxious breath, but it was not an immunity to either. In time, she would expire from one of the two; either the noxious breath filling her lungs, or the poison she knowingly drank in these gentle kisses.

Once more, her partner separated from the kiss and pulled her up by her arms, and, once again, she was in her partner's embrace. She let out a gasp and leaned her head back when she felt those hands begin to massage and tease the sensitive and vulnerable soft parts.

Their chests pressed together, they embraced one another, and their love-making session would continue into the long hours of the night until her partner was finished.

In the morning, before the sun rise, her partner would demand that she return to her place and leave her room. And she would without question and as best as she could. The previous night had not been a hard one as they had only remained in bed, but there had been nights when her partner had nearly killed her only to stop just before to prolong her life and forestall the promise that would be fulfilled upon her death.

Next time, she had been told, would be when she was reminded of what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bearer of my Stone...

**_Author's Note:_**

_Second chapter and this does not involve Cassiopeia and Nidalee. Their story will come back again, but, for now, let's start some more. Just a heads up, this does not tie into my other stories except for a few things. If nothing else, think of these as dark alternatives after some time._

_Now then, with all of that out of the way, this chapter will feature Nami and Soraka with some hints to Warwick, and this will have only dialog in it. Please enjoy._

* * *

"I… I don't know what to say. Are you certain of this?"

"I am, yes. Everything I've learned has pointed to this, but… I just don't know what to do."

"You cannot just move your people? Ionia would happily take them and provide for them until they are able to make their own lives."

"My people have lived there for years. We can't just move and leave everything behind… but I left my people to get… that."

"You don't even know if it's really what you need."

"Everything I've looked over and read points to that being what I need."

"It could be all fake. The one who wants me dead has a lot of influence and powerful contacts. It's likely he's been influencing you."

"He would go to such lengths? Just to get me to…"

"Just as you would go to great lengths for your people's mission, he could go to such lengths for himself as well. At times, he will even attack me here and send others to attempt to catch me."

"But what if he didn't? What if what I found is true and the only way to save my people?"

"…"

"What should I do then?"

"Child… I have risked my life many times to save the lives of others, as I am sure you have too from your time here, but, while I would give my life for another without a thought, it is not for another to take with little to no evidence that it must be lost so suddenly and quickly. I value my life as you value yours, can you understand that?"

"I do, but yours could-"

"I would sacrifice my life if I knew that would save your people, but I do not. As it stands, I could save many more people the way I have been now. I will not forfeit my life so easily."

"I… I will keep looking, but, if it comes to it… if I can find no other way to get the stone, I may have to…"

"I am willing to help you, but not like that. If needed, if you truly believe it is necessary, I will resist."

"I hope it does not come to that."

"That is something we can both agree on. Now, is there anything else you wish to speak to about?"

"No…"

"Okay. Would you mind if I asked you some things now?"

"Oh! Uhm… g-go ahead."

"Tell me about your people and why they cannot leave where they are now. I understand that they have lived there for generations, but, as with Tidecallers before you, the Marai are not unknown by the rest of the world; just rare."

"Well…"

_An hour later..._

"Both of our people have suffered through hard times."

"At least yours do not need hide under the radiance of a fading of light."

"All the more reason they should leave the place they are. We share this world, and yet your people wish to live where they are not welcomed and never seek aid."

"We do not just sit and wait to die! We have warriors and spell casters of our own to fight against the darkness! Your people were content to sit on their island and believe the world would just ignore you!"

"And the world noticed us, we sought aid from others. Since that day, we have maintained our culture, but we never try to return to the way we were before. Neutrality is an invitation to invasion and enslavement. How long will your people remain neutral to a pack of beasts you cannot defeat?"

"... Your home is scarred, and it may never return to normal."

"We paid the price for our neutrality, but the scars of war will one day fade. Because we fought against our darkness and asked for aid from others, we prevailed, drove back the darkness from our home, and we earned our home, scarred as it is. Whether or not we can restore it to the way it once was, lays with us.

"You and your people are fighting against an all-consuming darkness that will, one day, devour you, and then move on to the next victim. You and those before you have always taken the first steps toward ending that darkness... and yet you choose the easy way out every time.

"Now, with the one you always sought never found, perhaps their people and culture wiped from history, you have become desperate and are willing to jump to conclusions in the hope of continuing to take the easy way out, and it is only a hope-"

"It is my people's light in the darkness! This hope is all I have to save them! Can't you understand that!"

"I could, but could you?"

"Wh- what?"

"Think it over child, and remember: my people are willing to help yours, but you must to willing to accept it. Good bye."

_Footsteps..._

_Followed by tears...  
_

* * *

_And that's the start of story two. I wonder what's going to happen.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note:_**

_This one actually gave me a shiver or two as I wrote it. Just a warning though: this one contains light to heavy blood, gore, and concepts that some might find disturbing. Read at your own risk.  
_

_Backstory: Not saying it this time, just know it is about Ahri and Mundo._

_Also, there will be a poll as well, probably up by the time this one is read, displayed on my profile. I hope at least._

_Chapter Three: Enduring Madness_

* * *

_Chop!_

The body of his most recent victim _squirmed_ as his cleaver came halfway through the neck.

_Chop!_

The body _twitched_ as he completely severed the head from the body and tossed it into a shoot with others.

She watched him with her head bent backwards, her back arched to allow better vantage to watch him as he worked, and blinked every time his cleaver came down. It wasn't that she was scared or startled as she had heard him work many times before, and she was calm as she watched and listened. There were others in line, some waiting their turn with grim submission or teary eyes, but there was a special one, one unlike the others, in line…

And soon, it would be _her_ turn.

_Chop!_

The body of the next one in line would _squirm_ as he brought his cleaver down, beginning the decapitation of the next one with practice efficiency and skill.

_Chop!_

The head was removed completely, the body left _twitching_ on the table, and looked over the pain-ridden and stricken face. He seemed to be admiring it, as though he took some kind of sick pleasure in the final expression of his victims' lives, before shaking his head and tossing it down the shoot with the previous ones.

There was a slight curiosity as to what he did with the heads and the bodies, but anyone who stayed with him for prolonged periods of time would know the purpose of the heads, the bodies, and their fates. If one stayed near the man as long as she had, they would know a lot about him, why he was renowned by many as **mad**; a title rightly bestowed upon him.

He cared not for the lives he ended, but seemed to delight in the way they moved as he cleaved the heads from their bodies. It was rare for him to do this, but, now and again, he did find himself with too many specimens and would need to reduce their numbers to ensure enough lived as long as he wished for them to. Live specimens were his favorite, as he could reuse the same one many times before they expired, but dead ones allowed him to experiment in other ways.

From keeping a heart alive without the rest of the body to a working stomach he used to test foods, he was as familiar with anatomy as he was with chemicals.

In the past, she would have preferred to go hungry when he offered the meaty ribs of one of his freshly killed victims. In the present, she would ask him to pass the condiments so she could add more flavor to her meal.

He was a better scientist, but he was also a good cook.

_Chop!_

The third one _squirmed_ as his cleaver fell, but this one did something the others had not; it tried to stop him. In the process of such a useless attempt, he raised his cleaver again and gripped the head in his much larger and stronger hand to keep it from rolling to the side.

_Chop!_

He cleaved the head in two, sending the body into more of a _spasm_ than a _twitch_. He then pushed the cleaver in deeper, making a sawing motion, until it reached the blood-soaked wood of the table. He removed the cleaver, blood, brain, and mucus dripping from it, and stuck the cleaver into the table with a resonating _thud._

She blinked at this single _thud_, and then watched with unblinking eyes as he torn the body in half diagonally with his bare hands. She saw him do this at times, abandon his prized and cherished cleaver in favor of his hands, but those were rarer than his victims fighting back.

Contrary to what many believed, he never showed his favorite cleaver to the public. Oh no, the **_Infected Cleaver _**was reserved only for his public image, but his favorite one, his butchering cleaver, was one most people only saw once… unless they were waiting in the line.

She blinked and looked up at him without moving, and he looked into the eyes of his most recent victim, pressing the two halves of the head together before bringing his cleaver down and severing the two head halves with one quick _Chop!_.

Even if this one had given him some trouble, dead was dead in his eyes, and she had only seen him regard someone as **'alive' **once before.

With neither word nor second thought, he tossed the head aside, both piece of it sliding down the shoot, before hooking the body to the meat hooks overhead and pulled the chain for the next set to come within reach. It was barbaric yet effective system, especially when he split them in half, but he never was one for _clean _and _humane_. A simple length of rope, one of many he kept, was all that he needed to tie under the armpits and send it off.

It would be a messy, foul smelling ordeal later… but he was already looking toward that.

It was _her _turn now, and she did not try to resist. Submission was the only way to ensure it was quick, as they both knew. Better a willing experiment than an unwilling one... or so he had said as he warned them before. Half of today's line requested they be killed today and spared the torturous experiments.

He reached toward _her_ and pulled _her_ closer by _her_ black, braided hair, his blood slick fingers having little trouble dragging her naked form over the aging wood of the table. She meekly called out in pain, tears wailing up in her eyes, but otherwise accepted _her_ fate.

Unlike the others, and something he did rarely, today seemed to be a day of those, he examined _her_ body, as though considering something...

Was this the one he had been looking for? Was his search ended? For the first time, would someone in the butcher's line live?

He raised his cleaver _–it seemed not-_, and brought it down as he had down to the previous ones.

_Chop!_

The heavy blade sank into the neck muscles, cutting through the skin, veins, jugular, and wind pipe of the woman, causing _her_ to _squirm_ and open her mouth in surprise and pain.

His examination was over, and his mind was made up; this one would not break that record. At least she would know the truth to a certain, grim rumor: Does it feel like one chokes on their own blood when their throat is opened as hers is, or does it feel like they breathe without breathing?

_Chop!_

The body _twitched_ as he cut through the vertebrae of the spine, it _squirming_ and _twitching_ like the others without the commanding mechanism of the head and the brain within, before going still seconds later.

He thought the one he had been looking for was _her_, or so it seemed at first, but he had decided the answer to that was no. The living dead was now the dead-dead; not much of a change to him, but a drastic one to others.

He raised the severed head and, unlike with the rest, placed it on the table, in front of a mirror no less.

She was calm; eyes still and mouth closed once more. _-blink.-_ She was content; as one could be given the alternative. _-blink.-_ She had accepted the fate this Madman of Zaun had decided for her; even if there were dreams that would soon no longer even be a part of her thoughts. _–blink-._

...and then he turned the head around, not picking it up from the table but turning it. _–blink-_ He began to speak, explain, as picked a new cleaver, a scalpel meant for the more delicate work of cutting flesh and muscle and veins in a less messy way, and then cut open the body to begin the gory task of removing the innards.

One by one, he explained the function of each, teaching _her _of the autonomy of the body with great enthusiasm. Even when the life faded from _her_ eyes, the pupils enlarging and darkening, he continued to speak as though talking to an apprentice.

It was not until he reached the intestines, the stomach lying on the table with the lungs, heart, and other parts, that he took a closer look at the head to notice the empty stare in the cold, dead, once golden eyes of his victim. "Mundo forgot to give subject medicine! Assistant!" He was explaining this to an apprentice, not to the severed head. "Get Mundo medicine!"

The apprentice, assistant as he called the person, nodded and sat up, and then reached and picked up the vial he had always referred to as 'medicine' during these butchering sessions. "How much longer?" The assistant asked.

He took the medicine, and replaced his scalpel with another, cleaner cleaver, and began the process of opening _her_ skull. "When Mundo find right one!" The Madman said. With a smooth motion, he tapped the blade of the cleaver against the forehead of the skull once _–tap-_ twice _–tap-_ thrice _–tap-_, and finally held the head down with his thick fingers by the neck and opened the skull with the fingers of his other hand at the temples.

He held the top of the skull by the braided, black hair, and then poured the contents of the vial over the naked brain. As he put the skull back on, using some kind of medical paste to glue it back on, the head began to blink, only this time there was a look of terrible sorrow on _her_ face and in _her_ eyes.

"_It's over when I say so,"_ belonged to this man as well.

The Madman smiled broadly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and patted the head. "Stay until Mundo is done." Like his victims had a choice in the matter. Compared to the one before, even resistance was futile, and that was not the first one to try today.

The assistant, still sitting up, pulled their knees to their chest, nine tails coming out from the slit of the surgery gown that was called a 'uniform' to wrap around and comfort the poor, nearly naked figure, and whispered softly. "Okay." The assistant was beginning to tremble, feeling the overpowering look of betrayal and sorrow from the severed head and person that was denied death.

Maybe… hopefully, the next line would have the one he wanted in it…

"Ahri!"

His assistant, her eyes glossy and hardened to keep the horrors she had witnessed from destroying her, looked toward the Madman.

"Mundo done today. Clean up."

She nodded, and then waited until he left before she got up.

The first thing she felt was a warm, wet floor of stone under her bare feet. The first thing she noticed was that the body he had gutted was nowhere to be seen. The first thing that made the first tear fall from her cheeks was the eyes of the head, still alive, looking up at her in a pleading manner.

She waved her hand over the head, and stole the life essence within it. A moment later, the eyes went dead again. _Mercy was a human luxury, after all…_ she often thought to herself… yet it was her responsibility to give it.

She had stared into those eyes until the life was robbed from then, and then turned her head, picked it up by grasping it under the chin and by the neck, and dropped it into the shoot where she had seen him drop the other heads. She glanced toward the opening, and then reached in to push one of the halves from the second to last head had gotten itself stuck on the messy metal.

She still grimaced when she had to do this, but do it she did.

Ahri had been… 'offered' a position as Mundo's assistant since she was, as he called her, special. She was tasked first with cleaning, then taking items to him, and now gathering specimens for him; along them being the one that looked just like her.

He might have been debating whether or not to exchange one assistant for another.

She missed her home in Ionia; if only those people hadn't taken her from her home. She managed to escape one hell only to end up at another one.

She missed the temporary home she had found in a large building with other women; if only she hadn't decided to leave during the night to find more youthful victims.

She never intended to become one herself. Still, better to be an assistant than a specimen, at least this way she had been promised to one day be released and allowed to leave.

The problem was how he would let her leave.

* * *

_Backstory: Ahri never officially joins the League of Legends, but she has spent some time there. Instead of traveling from Ionia, she is captured and taken from it by Zaunites, escapes and hides out in a brothel, and is then captured by Dr. Mundo._


End file.
